


This Year's Love

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Artists, Begging, Come Marking, Comeplay, Communication Failure, Dinner Parties, Drinking, Face-Sitting, Falling In Love, Flirting, Forehead Touching, Friendship, Frottage, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Karaoke, Kissing at Midnight, Light Bondage, M/M, Makeup Sex, Marks, Modern Era, Morning Sex, New Year's Eve, Nude Modeling, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Scent Kink, Semi-Public Touching, Sketches, Spanking, Teasing, Touch-Starved, Touching, Wall Sex, sweater appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 20:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17251193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: A sequel to 'Your Hips, Your Lips, Your Skin On Mine'.Silver goes home with Flint on New Year's Eve and Flint makes good on his promise. They start the new year off right but all good things have to come to an end eventually, don't they? Can a holiday romance last after the holiday is over?





	This Year's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to FunnyLady who supplied me with a perfect title and song for this fic a long time ago. It was much appreciated. <3
> 
> 'This year's love had better last  
> Heaven knows it's high time  
> I've been waiting on my own too long  
> And when ya hold me like you do  
> It feels so right oh now  
> I start to forget how my heart gets torn'
> 
> ~ This Year's Love - David Gray ~

The snow starts falling harder. There are flakes landing upon Silver’s curls and cheeks and sweater. Flint leans in to brush them off, and they just end up kissing again, his hands wrapped tightly in the soft red material, wandering further until Silver shivers, half from the cold, half from the way Flint’s fingers brush at his nipples.

Flint exhales softly. There are a hundred things he wants to say and yet his heart is beating too fast, and too slow at the same time for him to say any of them. Is this truly happening? Has he asked himself that before? It seems an agelessly new question, something for eternity to ponder.

 “Happy New Year.” Silver whispers. “When are you going to make good on that promise to torture me?”

“That depends.” Flint says slowly, even though half of him is thinking _it’s not midnight yet_.

“On?”

“On whether you’re coming home with me tonight?” Flint knows the answer to this; at least he thinks he does. But there’s still part of him that doubts and has to ask anyway.

Silver’s answering smile is as bright as starshine and he knows he’s right.

Flint would have preferred to slip out quietly but they get spotted by someone whose name he doesn’t remember, and then Anne raises her eyebrows at them and Flint returns the gesture and he sees Max widening her eyes and he kisses her cheek quickly with a “Happy New Year, thank you, goodbye,” and grabs Silver by the arm and bolts for the street.

 

_*  *  *_

 

_You better text me everything tomorrow or else_

Flint scowls at the text he’s gotten before they’re even out in the street. “I presume you also got one of these?”

Silver holds up his phone. _Let me know you’re all right and I want ALL the details Mx._

Flint sighs. He It’s probably nice that their friends care, but right now he rather wishes they didn’t.

The snow is falling harder as Flint finally gets a cab. Silver’s snickering into the collar of his coat, even as he starts shivering faintly.

Flint eyes him. “Your coat is too thin.” He mutters.

Silver shrugs. “It does well enough.” He sounds unconcerned so Flint leaves it for now. The scarf looped around Silver’s throat is giving him ideas though. He imagines wrapping it around Silver’s wrists, tying him in place and making good on that promise. He has a lot of ideas on how to fulfill that promise and he wants to do all of them.

They slide into the back seat of the taxi and Flint tells the driver his address and then sits up a little straighter as Silver’s hand wanders aimlessly down along the inseam of his trouser.

Silver’s not even looking at him. His gaze is fixed on the window and the passing scenery, the snow falling down in a soft cascade. There are still flakes melting on his hair, but his hand is definitely right there, resting along Flint’s thigh. Just the warmth is enough to make Flint harden.

He draws a swift breath.

Silver’s fingers press lightly upwards with the laziest of purpose.

_Little shit is doing this on purpose._

“Is this revenge for me not calling?” Flint whispers, trying not to squirm.

There’s the faintest smile lurking upon Silver’s lips. “Maybe.” He keeps his gaze fixed on the window.

Flint starts to laugh, but then Silver’s fingers dance upward, knuckles brushing ever so lightly over his crotch. Flint bites his lip hard as the teasing fingers stroke over his cock.

_Christ in fucking heaven._

He looks out the window on his side, trying to focus on anything but the teasing knuckles stroking over the rising curve of his cock. It’s thickening at an abruptly fast rate and he’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t clearly exactly what Silver wants and hopes for, and there’s something about the way he’s so obviously pleased with himself that makes Flint not give a shit at how obviously he’s so turned on.

It’s only giving him more ideas for the torture later, of course, but he counts that a bonus.

By the time they reach Flint’s flat, there’s no hiding his arousal so Flint gives up on that. Instead he takes every opportunity to touch Silver in return: leaning into him as he passes the taxi driver his payment, hands brushing over Silver’s back and hip as they make their way upstairs, down across his ass, helping him off with his coat once they’re inside his door, fingers lingering on his collar, his breath hot on Silver’s neck.

He catches sight of the clock on the wall. It’s not even ten yet. They left the party so early. No wonder Max wants the details. Who leaves a New Year’s Eve party before it’s ten pm? _People who are desperate to fuck each other, that’s who._

“Would you like some coffee?” Flint half starts towards the kitchen to get the coffeepot going.

Silver’s hand shoots out to stay his wrist. “If you don’t take me to bed right now, I’m leaving and going back to that party.”

Flint tries to hold back his smile but he can’t. “Is that what you want? For me to take you to bed?”

Silver tilts his head back, gazing at him. “Yes, James, that’s what I want.”

There’s something unbearably, incredibly intimate about hearing his name on Silver’s lips. As though no one else has ever said his name right before now. Flint leans down and presses his lips to Silver’s.

“All right, John, let’s go to bed.”

Silver grins at him, fingers dipping down to stroke over his crotch again and Flint’s kiss turns into a moan. He bumps Silver into the wall, pressing his body against Silver’s length, feeling the heat of him.

Somehow they make it down the hall to the bedroom and Silver lands on the bed, tugging Flint down with him. Flint grazes his teeth with his ear, his knees on either side of Silver’s hips, gazing down at Silver. He’s not sure how they wound up here. He’s not a religious man, otherwise he’d call it a miracle. It doesn’t matter in the end. What matters is that they are here, with Silver looking up at him, eyes bright as the whole world. Flint can hardly bear how hopeful and warm those eyes are so he dips down to kiss him again, trailing his mouth down over Silver’s cheek to his throat and collarbone.

Flint grazes his teeth along Silver’s exposed neck and pauses there for a moment. “Second date.” Flint murmurs, wanting to see what Silver will say in response. He knows it’s what Silver intimated, but he wants to hear him say it again, here, in Flint’s bed. He wants to tie Silver up and have his way with him all night long. He wants Silver to want that, and to voice that desire over and over.

Silver lies back and gazes up at him. “Are you truly going to make me beg then?”

Flint presses his thumb into the jut of Silver’s hipbone, not answering for a moment. “Do you want me to make you beg?” His fingertips skim the top of Silver’s jeans and he watches Silver’s stomach grow taut.

“I thought we had established I am quite ready to be claimed and ravished and tortured.” Silver tells him.

“Mm, you say that now.” Flint’s fingers presses harder, watching as Silver’s lips part in breathless response. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”

“All right.” Silver says. “So come on then.” He arches his hips upward, rubbing his cock against Flint’s.

Flint grins at him. “How do you want to be tied?” He leans down to nip at Silver’s throat. “On your front or on your back?”

Silver shivers for a moment, thinking about the possibilities of each position. “My back.”

“Lie back down then.” Flint directs. He crawls off the bed to go fetch something to tie Silver’s hands. He has some rope left over from an art project, and he decides that he wants to bind Silver with actual rope, to his headboard. He has a feeling Silver would be able to slip out of that scarf.

He comes back to find Silver lying on his back, his arms folded behind his head, waiting for him. Silver eyes the rope in his hand, raising an eyebrow.

“Lift your hands to the headboard.” Flint directs. He waits for Silver to obey before he advances.

He binds first Silver’s left wrist and then his right. He can hear Silver’s breath catch as he tests the knots, and then he looks down, stroking his fingers under Silver’s chin to look up at him.

“Well?” Flint asks softly. He watches as Silver swallows, and then.

“I want you to fuck me.” Silver tells him. “Please, fuck me. I’ve been dreaming of this ever since I first modeled for you.”

Flint cocks his head, gazing at him. “Really? Since that first day.”

“Are you kidding me? I walked in the room and there you were, all intent on what you were doing, and I wanted the class to last forever so I could watch you teach, but at the same time it was fucking torture, because I just…can’t let myself get hard-ons during a class, I just won’t. It’s so unprofessional, but being around you all afternoon was so arousing. All I wanted to do was go home and jerk off.” Silver cuts himself off abruptly, half-flushing, but half smirking at him.

Flint sucks in a breath at the image of Silver, calm and professional as he had been that day, whipped into a frenzy of desire simply by being around Flint.

“And then, I didn’t have to.” Silver looks up at him. “Because you invited me in and we went upstairs.”

Flint nods. “If I hadn’t though…” He moves to the foot of the bed. “What would you have done?”

“Caught that bus.” Silver’s watching him as Flint as he kneels on the coverlet and then moves upward slowly, situating himself between Silver’s spread thighs.

“And then?” Flint runs his hand up Silver’s knee.

“I’d have gone home to my flat. Made some coffee. And then I’d have stretched out on my bed, much like this, and thought about you.”

Flint curls his fingers along the inside of Silver’s thigh. “Is that right?”

Next he brushes his fingers along under that sweater that he’s been dying to touch all evening, and still hasn’t had enough of, pulling it up to reveal Silver’s lithe stomach. Flint leans down to brush a kiss across Silver’s middle, and another, taking his time as he works his way upward. He draws the sweater up inch by inch until Silver’s nipples are exposed.

“Flint.” Silver whispers.

“There’s not nearly enough begging going on.” Flint rubs his thumb over Silver’s left nipple. He watches it stiffen before leaning in close. He blows a soft whisper of air over Silver’s nipple, and then, just a teasing flick of his tongue run over it.

Silver shudders. “Fuck, that’s not fair.”

“Mm. I never said this would be fair.” Flint repeats the whole process, caress of his thumb, light breath of air and then his tongue, even more teasing this time.

Silver shudders again, pulling slightly at his bound wrists.

Instead of moving over to his other nipple Flint returns his attention to Silver’s groin. He reaches for his zipper, drawing it down slowly. Silver’s dick presses heatedly against his briefs. Flint considers it a moment, and then reaches under him to tug his jeans down to mid-thigh, taking care when he draws them over Silver’s prosthetic. Then he sits back, just looking at the sight of Silver in front of him. Silver squirms a little under his gaze. Even though not all of his prosthetic is visible, it’s still impossible to forget it’s there. Not that Flint wants to do any such thing. He places a kiss on Silver’s knee, tracing the line of the scar, but doesn’t say anything.

Flint lowers his head, licking along the curve of Silver’s cock through his briefs. He does this until the full length of it, aroused and throbbing, is stark against the black material. Then he moves lower, tracing the crease of Silver’s ass, teasing the bulge of his sac all the way down, through the briefs. He was entirely serious when he said he’d make Silver beg before he fucked him and he’s not stopping now.

Silver groans low in his throat. “Oh, fuck, Flint, come on.”

“You can do better than that.” Flint tells him lazily. He, for one, could do this all night.

Silver squirms again, panting. “Please, I need you inside me, now. Please.”

“Begging suits you.” Flint tells him. He kisses Silver’s hip, sucking lightly, as he reaches for Silver’s jeans again. This time he pulls them all the way off, leaving Silver in his red sweater and black briefs. He thinks about sketching Silver like this. Drawing it out even longer while he draws him literally. But as he gazes at Silver, his eyes slightly dazed, and his lips reddened and parted, Flint knows he’ll remember this with plenty of detail to sketch it later.

He reaches between Silver’s legs, stroking up along his cleft. This time Silver’s whimper is practically a breathless shout.

“Imagine,” Flint says conversationally, doing it again, “What it will actually feel like when I’m fucking you?”

He pulls Silver’s briefs down at the back, keeping his cock nicely trapped for now, while he teases his forefinger delicately between Silver’s luscious cheeks. The heat gathered there is perfection. He pushes further, finding Silver’s rim and stroking it with just the faintest tip of his finger.

Silver’s moan is strangled in his throat. He presses his hips downward, trying to move against Flint’s finger. “Please, come on.”

“This is barely anything.” Flint murmurs. He presses a little further, watching as Silver bites down hard, his teeth sinking exquisitely into his lower lip, his eyes closing. “What if I worked you open until you were ready to take me, and then simply slipped a plug in you instead.”

Silver’s eyes shoot open. “You wouldn’t. You promised you’d fuck me.”

“Did I?” Flint asks idly, pressing his finger deeper. “Anyway, I would fuck you. Eventually. After you’d been waiting a while, stretched and filled and hard.” He reaches his other hand around to stroke along the length of Silver’s cock, still entrapped in his briefs. “Mm, what this?”

The tip of his cock is leaking needily, the pre-come spreading over the briefs. Silver shrugs his shoulders a little, giving Flint a helpless look.

“And then, just when you’d given up all hope.” Flint curls his finger just so, making Silver yelp with pleasure. “I’d take the plug out, turn you on your belly and thrust right into you.”

Silver’s sink closed again, picturing this. “You’d make me get up on all fours, wouldn’t you?”

“I think it would suit you just right.” Flint tells him. He reaches up and slowly, achingly slowly, pulls Silver’s briefs down. His cock bounces up immediately, thick and reddened, desperate for attention. Flint lowers Silver’s briefs all the way down, and then pauses a moment. He lifts them to his face, drinking in the heavy scent of Silver’s arousal.

When he opens his eyes again, Silver’s gazing at him with an expression Flint can’t interpret.

“What?” He asks gruffly, tossing the briefs over on the chair beside the bed. He can’t explain what Silver’s scent does to him. Everything about him fills Flint with lust, but there’s something particular about Silver’s scent that makes Flint completely undone by desire for him.

“Nothing. You just look so…” Silver shakes his head. “Entranced.” He sounds puzzled.

Flint shrugs, a little self-consciously. He gets up off the bed and starts undressing, watching Silver watch him as he does. Finally he stands naked in front of Silver.

Silver stares at him hungrily. “Come here.”

“That sounds more like a command than a plea.” Flint tells him. He goes over to his bedside table and takes out the lube there. When he turns back towards the bed Silver’s face is right there, gazing up at him with beseeching eyes.

“Please fuck me, James. _Please_.” He licks his lips. “Or at least let me taste you.”

“Plenty of time for that later.” Flint tells him. Just the thought of Silver sucking him makes him harden and he’s not ready to come just yet. Not before he’s fucked Silver properly.

He grabs the lube and returns to his place between Silver’s thighs. Slicking two fingers he traces Silver’s hole lazily. Silver moans helplessly.

“That’s not fair.”

“I already told you I had no intention of playing fire.” Flint reminds him. He pushes the tips inside Silver, watching him try to press down upon them. Flint draws back immediately, and Silver sighs in frustration.

This time Flint takes pity on him and eases his finger inside. Silver sighs again but this sigh is different. It’s one of pleasure and deeply needed satisfaction.

“More.” Silver murmurs. “More.”

And now Flint can’t wait any longer either. He needs this, needs to be inside Silver to feel him and be connected with him.

He starts to reach for a condom and Silver offers a little cough, making Flint look down at him.

“I want you inside me bare.”

“Are you sure?” He knows they’ve done that once before but a second time, well, that bears more intimacy than he expected. It’s not that he doesn’t want it; he just wasn’t sure if Silver did.

“Yes.” Silver says with utter conviction so Flint simply slicks his cock inside and reaches for Silver’s hips.

Positioning himself, he presses the head of his cock against Silver, feels him ready and eager and wanting, and still he waits.

Silver stares up at him and then groans. “You absolute magnificent bastard.”

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s both.” Silver assures. “Fuck me.”

“Still sounds like you’re issuing a command.” Flint tells him, not that he minds. He likes the idea of that as well, but they had decided how this was going to go, and now Silver’s being a little shit and taking charge.

“Please.” Silver whispers, breathless and low, a sound that goes immediately to Flint’s dick. “Please fuck me.” The way he says fuck is somehow both pleading and demanding and Flint gives in; that’s just the way Silver is.

He grips Silver’s buttocks, lifting his ass up as he thrusts in.

“Fuck yes, oh god, yes.”

Flint pauses. “I’m barely in.”

“I don’t care. Oh god, yes, this is what I need. Please Flint, come on, more. more.”

Flint shrugs and thrusts balls deep into Silver. Silver fucking shouts, tilting his hips more, pressing upward to meet Flint for all he’s worth. Flint grips his hips with one hand, and reaches down to tug Silver’s hair, tilting his head back. He jerks his hips more, fucking into Silver at an absurd speed, making Silver yelp and whimper, his breath coming in harsh pants.

Silver’s gasping, chest heaving, his own cock still leaking over his belly. He whimpers as Flint adjusts his stance. Flint grips his legs spreading them wider, pausing a moment as his hand slides over Silver’s prosthetic.

“Take it off.” Silver pants.

“Are you sure?” Flint asks again.

Silver gives a jerky nod so Flint does, carefully undoing the straps and setting it aside. His hand slides over Silver’s stump, a caress he still can’t hold back. He wants to lavish affection and worship upon Silver. Another night, perhaps. Tonight he just wants to make Silver come as hard as he can.

He slides his hand under Silver’s hip, lifting him so he can thrust even deeper. Silver’s groans grow louder and Flint’s mesmerized, lost in the pure act of fucking, Silver’s body and his together, Silver and him, skin on skin, body to body, the sweat and the stink of it filling his nostrils and he feels his balls tighten, ready to spill.

“I’m going to come inside you this time.” Flint tells him, his voice rough with the effort. “But next time I’m going to come all over your face and hair.” The image of that is enough to send him over the edge; that and Silver clenching hot and tight around him.

Silver gasps in response, shooting wildly over his own belly. His head falls backward upon the pillows. His chest heaves as the rest of his body goes lax. He looks up at Flint with hooded eyes.

“Fuck, but that was satisfying.”

Flint grins at him, unable to keep himself from leaning down to kiss Silver as he reaches to undo the ropes binding him. There are marks on Silver’s wrists, and Flint runs his fingers over them ruefully.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m concerned about if you’ve got come on my sweater.” Silver murmurs drowsily.

“That would be entirely your fault.” Flint tell him. “Your dick, your come, your sweater.”

“You.” Silver shakes his head. He reaches a hand up to cup Flint’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Flint pauses, and then a smile steals over his face. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Clearly you don’t know how rare it is to be completely satisfied.” Silver tells him with a yawn.

He half sits up, wiggling out of his sweater and tossing it on the floor. Flint gets up and goes to clean off. He comes back with a fresh washcloth, and cleans Silver off, taking the washcloth back to the bathroom.

When he comes back, Silver’s eyes are closed but as Flint approaches the bed, he opens eye and says. “It’s cold.”

“That’s because you’re naked.” Flint chuckles. He grabs the comforter at the foot of the bed and unfolds it, covering Silver up.

He stretches out beside him and Silver immediately turns to him, raising his face upward.

Flint cups Silver’s face as he leans into him, kissing him afresh. Every touch of Silver’s lips on his has him starving for more. It’d be embarrassing if he cared, and usually he would care about the vulnerability of this hunger, but there’s something about the way Silver looks at him, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that just looking at him, being near him, aware of him, can make Flint blindingly happy and hard in one instant. He’d be hard again right now if he hadn’t just come. As it is, he’s simply sated and content.

He kisses Silver again and draws the comforter closer around him.

“So how long till you’re ready to go again?”

Flint glances at Silver in alarm only to see his mouth twitching in amusement.

“You shit.” Flint leans down to kiss him again.

 

 

*  *  *

 

“Five minutes till the new year.” Silver murmurs. “Nearly there.”

“Mhm?” Flint opens one eye to look at the clock on the bedside table. He can’t believe it’s only just about to turn midnight. It feels as though they’ve been in bed for hours. Well more than two and a half.

They’re lying there in a spent heap under the blankets. Flint’s exhausted but completely content. He’s never felt so good. His entire body is reborn anew, but beyond that his mind feels as though it’s on fire with inspiration. He wants this, wants Silver, wants to hold on to this feeling for as long as he can and use it to create new things, a fresh start. Anything is possible with a feeling like this.

“You know the saying...whatever you start off doing on the new year, that’s what you do all year long.”  
Silver murmurs.

Flint rolls over to rest atop him, gazing down at him. “Do you think my stamina is up to that?” He brushes his hips against Silver’s, loving the way Silver’s eyelashes flutter helplessly, his lip catching between his teeth in a soft moan.

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.” Silver whispers.

Flint starts chuckling and simply can’t stop even as he slides into Silver again.

He’s got Silver gasping, his own cock thrusting helplessly between his hands, as Flint fucks into him slow and long and making Silver shudder with each aching thrust.

“Happy New Year.” Flint whispers and it’s Silver’s turn to laugh. The sound vibrates up his spine all the way to Flint and he leans down to turn Silver’s head for a kiss, the first kiss of the new year, but not the last.

“Happy New Year.”

 

 *  *  * 

 

On the first day of January, Flint wakes to the faint sound of traffic in the street below That in itself is nothing new. But then he rolls over to muffle the noise with his pillow and he’s abruptly reminded that he’s not alone. Curled up by his side, still soundly asleep, is Silver. Flint lies there, simply looking at him. He still can’t believe last night was real, that Silver had wanted to come home with him, that he wanted Flint again at all. And yet, by all accounts and memory, it was true. Here lies Silver, proof that last night was real and now…

Now what?

Flint has no idea what to do next. He’s never been at this point, or at least he hasn’t for a very long time. His earlier relationships had all ended badly or pointlessly. Mostly due to his realization that other people and he simply weren’t a good fit, or that they were in the end, rather dull. He wanted someone he could have endless conversations with, and yet share a comfortable silence, someone he could talk about books and shared his views on politics and music and art. Why was that so hard to find?

Silver stirs in his sleep and Flint hesitates, and then, ever so lightly, his fingers moving almost cautiously in their exploration, he caresses Silver’s curls. A rush of arousal surges in him at the memory pulling those same curls just last night. His cock throbs, remembering too how it felt to be inside Silver’s heat.

There’s a sleepy murmur from the pillow beside him and Flint looks down see Silver gazing up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Is that for me?” Silver inquires, yawning slightly. He looks barely awake and Flint wants to wrap him up more warmly in his blankets, keeping him safe and cozy from the outside world for as long as Silver will let him.

“What?” He’s barely aware of Silver’s question.

Silver reaches a hand between Flint’s legs and cups him teasingly. “This.”

Flint bites back a moan. “Fuck.”

“Well?” Silver asks. “Is that for me?”

“Yes.” Flint manages.

Silver merely slides down and slips his length inside his mouth.

Flint swallows his cry, his hands clenching tightly to avoid reaching down for Silver’s head and commanding him as he pleased, as Silver had wanted, begged him to do, last night.

_What you do at midnight, you do all year._

What if this is his year? _Their_ year? He can’t imagine that, even though he wants to. This first new day is enough for now.

Silver draws off with a slick wet pop. Flint can’t take his eyes off his mouth, red and sweet and still hungry for more of Flint.

“Go on.” Silver whispers, gazing at him.

Flint hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Go on.” Silver urges and Flint lets his fingers sink into his curls, and _tugs._ Silver moans, slipping him inside his mouth once more, sucking heatedly at his cock. Flint’s hips arch up to meet him, fucking Silver’s mouth. His fist curls more tightly in Silver’s hair, nearing the finish and then Silver pulls off.

Flint stares at him in surprise, and then his eyes widen as Silver moves, straddling him, sinking down on him with a sound that’s positively pornographic. Flint’s hands settle naturally on his hips and steady him. Silver gazes down at him as he moves, sinking deeper on Flint’s cock. Flint can’t take his eyes off him. He can feel it gathering inside him, the steady rush of pleasure building up within his body and all the while, Silver’s still just looking at him with those steady eyes.

Flint raises a hand to stroke back a curl and then naturally cups Silver’s cheek. Silver leans into it, turning his face into Flint’s palm, and then he sucks Flint’s thumb wetly into his mouth, drawing it across his tongue and Flint is lost.

 

*  *  *

 

The next time Silver wakes, Flint is sitting up in bed, sketching.

He sits up in bed with a yawn, looking over at Flint.

Flint looks up from his sketchpad. “Morning.”

“Mmm.” Silver yawns again. “Coffee?”

“Already made.” Flints eyes drift back to his sketch. “There’s a mug out for you on the counter.”

Silver just yawns again. “Thanks.”

He pulls on his sweater to go into the kitchen to get some coffee. It barely covers the top of his ass and Flint’s dick throbs at how fucking hot Silver looks in just his sweater and nothing else. He stares down at his groin in consternation. Has he turned into a helpless teenager? Is that what’s happened here? They fucked for half the night and then already once this morning. How can his body be remotely ready for more? How can Silver have this effect on him again? Is he going to die on New Year’s Day from an overload of sex? Is that even possible?

He debates googling ‘the effect of too much sex’ but decides against it.

Silver comes to stand in the doorway of the bedroom, cradling his coffee in both hands. “Mmm.” He murmurs sleepily. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Mhm.” Flint manages. It’s meant to be _you’re welcome_ , but it’s not quite words at all. He can’t take his eyes off Silver.

Silver takes a sip and looks at him. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all.”

“What is it then?”

Flint just shakes his head, and rubs his hands in his hands. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

Silver raises an eyebrow. “Drinking coffee.”

“Looking like that.” Flint gestures at him.

Silver glances down. “Oh. Do you want me to put some pants on?”

“No.” Flint says emphatically, then, “Yes. Maybe. Fuck.”

Silver laughs. “Well, one or the other, which is it?”

Flint’s hands curl into fists by his sides, gripping the blanket beneath him. “What I want to do is pick you up, make you wrap those legs around me, and fuck you right there in the doorway until you scream.”

There’s a very short silence. He wonders if he’s gone too far. Perhaps he should have googled ‘the effect of too much sex’ after all.

Silver takes another sip of coffee. “Well?”

Flint’s at a loss.

“Are you going to or not?”

Flint doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crosses the room in a few strides, reaching for Silver who quickly sets his coffee down before slinging his arms around Flint’s shoulders. Flint lifts him easily, sliding Silver down to the tip of his cock. He looks at Silver who’s gazing back at him.

“Lube?”

“I’m still slick.” Silver whispers and Flint’s cheeks heat up just a fraction at the thought.

“Come on then.” Silver leans in to kiss Flint, sucking lightly on the tip of his tongue.

Flint’s cock reacts of its own accord, thrusting into the velvet heat of Silver’s body. He bites at Silver’s throat, holding him hard against the doorframe as he thrusts repeatedly. Flint curls his hands in Silver’s hair, tugging his head up as he adjusts Silver on his cock. Silver wraps his legs harder around his hips, drawing Flint in deeper.

 Silver’s panting, wrapping tighter and tighter around him. At the last minute Flint reaches down between their bodies, caressing Silver’s dick ever so lightly. Silver shudders and comes instantly, spilling over Flint’s fist. The exquisite tightness of him clenching around Flint makes him gasp in response, pressing Silver against the door as he comes.

Finally he straightens up, looking at Silver. “Are you okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Silver tugs him in for another kiss. “I’m fucking amazing.”

 _You really are_ , Flint thinks, but keeps that thought to himself. It’s far too sappy to say aloud.

They get more coffee and go back to the bed where it’s warm.

Silver snuggles up under the covers with a sigh of contentment and Flint watches him.

 “Do you want me to go?” Silver asks after that and Flint shakes his head, leaning over to kiss the word ‘stay’ into his shoulder blade.

 

*  *  *

  
  
The whole of the New Year break is spent happily having sex and drinking endless cups of tea (Flint) and mugs of coffee (Silver) and eating buttered toast and sausages, and then more sex, until eventually Flint thinks he might actually have used up his entire reserve of sexual energy only for Silver to trace his tongue down the inside of Flint’s thigh, sucking his teeth into the firm muscle there and Flint decides, he can definitely go again.

But eventually they have to put clothes on and face the outside world again. Flint sighs at the unanswered texts on his phone. He hadn’t responded to Max’s initial text. He doesn’t know if Silver did either, and he decides not to ask.

 It was one thing to start having a relationship, Flint realizes. It’s another to actually _tell_ people about it. He doesn’t want to tell people, or rather he wishes he could move past the newness of it and simply have it established and accepted as a matter of accord.

 

 *  *  *

 

It’s almost a relief to have a new semester begin, and classes starting up again. The first class is three quarters through January. At this point they’ve been…whatever they’ve been doing for nearly a month and Flint finds new possibilities every day in the little things.

The way Silver would curl up next to him, his body pressed warmly against Flint’s, sleeping until the early hours of the morning and then getting dressed in the dark, pressing a sleepy kiss into Flint’s hair before murmuring a goodbye till later. When he’s not modeling, Silver works at a coffeeshop and often takes the early shifts to have the rest of the day free. There’s a reason he’s so caffeine dependent, Flint soon learns, but also somehow Silver is one of those people who doesn’t need more than a few hours of sleep.

In the late afternoon, to early evening he’d turn up again and they’d cook dinner or get a takeaway, the way Flint usually did, except now Silver was there across the table, stealing a bite off Flint’s plate like he’d been doing it forever. And then they’d inevitably have sex. Sometimes they made it to the bedroom. Sometimes dinner got postponed because they needed the table for other activities.

 

*  *  *

 

All the same, Flint can’t help trying to recall if they had made any such deal this particular morning. Silver had kissed him before leaving the flat like usual, and definitely said something like bye, or see you, something along those lines. But he hadn’t said he’d be coming back to Flint’s flat that night, and for some reason Flint hasn’t texted to ask him.

He should just text him. He’s pretty sure that’s what Max would tell him to do. But there’s still something holding him back.

Flint sighs and puts his phone down on the desk, clasping his hands behind his neck as he stares out the window at the snow.  
  
“You look like you had a good holiday.”

Flint blinks at Idelle who’ surveying him over the stack of art supplies. She had agreed to come in and help him get the studio ready for the new semester. He’d almost forgotten she was there, except for the radio playing pop music in the corner. It’s currently on a Taylor Swift song and it’s taken Flint three seconds to realize he fucking knows all the lyrics to this. He’d be more horrified by this, but the song is catchy and Idelle is happy when she can listen to music while she’s working and that’s all that really matters.

“I did. Thank you.” He pauses. “I hope you did as well.”

“I did.” Idelle nods. “Auggie and I went scuba-diving.”

“Mm, sounds nice.”

“Did you get laid?” Idelle asks with interest. “It would explain a few things.”

“Such as?” Flint demands, before he can think better of it.

“The lube on the desk in the office for one thing. And these.” She holds up a pair of bright blue briefs that were decidedly not Flint’s. His cheeks burn as he goes to take them from her, stuffing them in his pocket.

“So….” Idelle cracks her gum. “Are you gonna tell me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause otherwise I’m probably just gonna start describing what I think happened.” Idelle leans back against the table. “First you probably laid him out on that desk and got a good mouthful of his thick hard-“

“IDELLE.”

She grins at him. “Probably easier if you just tell me then.”

Flint sighs. She’s his best model though, apart from ill-timed Belize weddings, and is usually very reliable and always helps out more than she had to. It’s not that he owes her exactly, but she is one of the few people who truly does seem to care about what’s happening in Flint’s life.

“Fine. His name is John Silver, he’s a model. He stepped in when you were on holiday, and yes we’re...” He still doesn’t know what to put into that space. Seeing each other? Boyfriends? Lovers? Fucking each other’s brains out to make up for lost time? “Seeing how it goes.” He says after a moment.

Idelle beams delightedly at him. “That’s fucking fantastic.”

“Thank you.” Flint says belatedly.

“So you did bang on the desk here though didn’t you?”

“I’m not discussing my sex life with you, Idelle.”

“That’s a yes then.”

*  *  *

  
They _had_ in fact banged on the desk and the work tables in the studio. Silver had kept teasing and rubbing against Flint while he tried to finish a project until he’d simply *had* to pin Silver down and thrust into him until Silver had gasped and panted and yes, really truly properly _begged_ this time _,_ for Flint to let him come.

Flint had.

Eventually.

 

 *  *  *

 

After class, which goes well, Flint goes back upstairs to his flat. He had left one light on earlier because he finds it depressing to come home to the dark, especially in winter. Now he goes around, turning on the rest of the lights, making his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Absently, he sticks his hands in his pockets, and realizes the underwear Idelle had found earlier is still there. He pulls them out, studying them. He remembers the way Silver had shucked them off that day, tossing them playfully at Flint.

God, he misses Silver. It’s ridiculous. He saw him this morning, but still a wave of longing overtakes Flint.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Flint brings the briefs up to his nose and inhales softly. There’s the faintest scent of Silver. It’s not enough. He needs Silver. He needs him here and naked, and laughing, it’s fucking pathetic, but he needs him.

He drops the briefs on the table with a sigh.

The doorbell buzzes and he goes over to the intercom, barking out a “Yes?” He doesn’t want to see anyone tonight. He wants to just be alone and not think about anything but all of those damn sketches of Silver.

“Um…it’s me.”

Flint stares at the intercom. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Silver says back, sounding a little confused.

There’s a pause and Flint tries to think of what he needs to say next.

“Can I come up?”

“Shit, yeah, hang on.” He punches the buzzer and immediately leans against the wall. Fucking hell, that was pathetic all right. Silver was going to take one look at him and just go.

Flint opens his eyes to see the blue briefs lying on the table. He grabs them and shoves them back in his pocket just as there’s a knock at the door.

Flint jerks the door open. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Silver eyes him. “Is this a bad time?”

“What, no, no.” Flint shakes his head. “Come in, come in.”

Silver does, still looking at him oddly. “Sure I’m not keeping you from something?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’ve got your coat on?”

Flint glances down as though he’s forgotten what he’s wearing. “Oh, right.” He shakes his head. “I got chilly down in the studio, that’s all.” He pulls his coat off and goes to hang it up.

When he turns around Silver’s scooping up the pair of briefs from the floor with a curious expression. “I wondered where these had gone.” He raises his eyebrows at Flint who blushes.

“Idelle found them downstairs.”

“Oh.” Silver starts chuckling. ”I’m sure explaining that was fun.” He scrunches up the briefs in his coat pocket and Flint just barely refrains from saying, ‘those are mine now, I want to keep them.’ Instead he watches Silver take off his thin coat and hang it up beside Flint’s. Somehow that gesture prompts him to say something else instead.

“I told her we were seeing how things went, you and me.”

Now it’s Siler’s turn to blush. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Flint shifts awkwardly. “I hope that was all right.”

“I mean, that is what we’re doing, right?”

“I…hope so.” Flint’s still awkward and this is why he doesn’t want to have to talk about relationships or sort through any of this. It was easier when they were just having sex and not talking. Even if part of him enjoys talking to Silver, admittedly.

Silver seems slightly at a loss. “Why were my briefs in your pocket?”

“I just shoved them there when you were coming up. I…” _was going to give them back_ , would have been the normal thing to say there but he doesn’t say it.

Silver eyes him, still waiting.

To his frustration Flint blushes again. “I was looking at them, and…they made me miss you.”

“My briefs made you miss me.” Silver repeats slowly.

“You…your scent.” Flint clears his throat. “Anyway.”

“You were smelling them, weren’t you?” The expression on Silver’s face is definitely one of amusement, and Flint can live with that, Silver being amused by him, as long as he doesn’t think Flint’s a creep.

“Yes.” He admits sheepishly.

“And how was that?’

“Disappointing frankly. It’s been too long since you were wearing them.”

Silver nods, looking like he’s lost in thought. “You realize I am wearing another pair right now.”

Flint swallows. “Yes.”

“Do you want to see them?”

“Yes.” Flint says again.

Silver unzips his jeans right there in the front room, showing Flint just the v of his briefs as his jeans ripple down. Flint sucks in a breath. they’re bright red this time. Practically the same shade of red as that damned sweater of his.

Silver stands there, jeans unzipped, one thumb looped into a belt loop, watching him as if to say, ‘Well? What do you think?’

“Bedroom.” Flint says hoarsely.

He has an idea of how this will go but as Silver follows him into the room, discarding his clothes until he’s wearing only the red briefs, Flint loses any semblance of control.

“Lie down.” Silver says after a look at him, and Flint does. He stretches out on his back and watches Silver approach the bed.

“Reach up and grip the headboard.”

Slowly Flint does.

Silver kneels on the foot of the bed, still just looking at him.

Then slowly he crawls the full length of the bed, moving like a cat up alongside Flint’s stretched out form.

Flint lies still on his back, and Silver straddles him. He moves up till his crotch hovers over Flint’s face, slowly lowering himself until his bulge presses against intimately Flint’s mouth.

Flint inhales eagerly. Slowly Silver rub against him. He doesn’t speak, simply lets his presence, the closeness of his body ripple over Flint until his entire form is taut with arousal. His cock swells and Silver lets his ass dangle just out of reach. There’s nothing, no friction, nothing to grant relief.

Flint’s hands flex tightly on the headboard, clearly wanting to reach for him.

“Keep them there.” Silver whispers as he leans in. He places his own hands atop Flint’s as he presses down against Flint’s face again.

Flint groans. He wants to touch Silver, wants to clasp his backside and bring it even closer, smothering himself in Silver’s groin. He’s getting dizzy and hard, the smell of Silver drawing him deeper. He closes his eyes, breathing it in deep, letting the tang of it, sharp and thick, fill his nostrils.

Flint loves the smell of sex; he always has, and with Silver, the faintest hint of him is enough to make Flint crazy with hunger for him. Whether it’s sweat gathering at the nape of Silver’s neck or under his arms, the essence of his come falling over his belly and thighs, more sweat gathering and drying upon his bare skin. If Flint could paint that scent, he would, burying his face in the painting every day so he would never forget what Silver smelled like.

A damp patch of arousal spreads over Silver’s briefs. Flint’s eyes fly open as he realizes Silver’s dripping already, the outline of his cock thick and heavy.  Silver’s cockhead presses hungrily against the front of his briefs, leaking harder, as he rocks against Flint’s face.

“Flint.” He breathes, and that’s intimate too, the way he thinks of Flint like that, Flint wants to call him by all names, to know Silver throughout his life and in the next, all the names and nicknames he has ever been known as and will be known by.

His hands grip the headboard so hard his knuckles are white, and Silver’s hands clench over them just as tightly. And then he leans down with one hand, tugging at his briefs, drawing his cock out. He rocks harder against Flint’s mouth and Flint knows, watching the way Silver’s cock dances and surges, how this will go.

The first few drops fall upon his cheek and then Silver throws his head back with a groan, his nails digging into the backs of Flint’s hands as his body shudders. His cock stiffens, spilling the rest of it, across Flint’s face, coating his beard and cheek, nose and forehead. He feels it dripping it down his cheek and oh god, his dick surges in response.

Silver lowers his hands, letting his body sink down Flint’s chest until the round cheeks of his backside meet Flint’s dick. He rubs against it, locking eyes with Flint. His gaze is sharp too, like he’s daring Flint to let him do this, and Flint wants to tell him he can do whatever he likes, that Flint wants him, every last bit of him.

Slowly Flint thrusts between his cheeks, biting back another moan as the tantalizing heat of Silver’s body overtakes him, the scent of Silver’s come filling the air. It only takes a few thrusts before he shoots between Silver’s cheeks, feeling it trickle down the crease of his ass.

Silver slumps down upon Flint’s chest, breathing hard. “Fuck.”

Flint lowers his hands then, wrapping them around Silver, and then, he can’t help it, he lets one hand drift down between his cheeks, running his fingers through the come there.

Silver turns his head, looking up at him. His eyes have sharpened, and he leans in, pressing his lips to Flint’s.

“I need a shower.” He says finally.

“I think we both do.” Flint says.

 

*  *  *

 

It’s the next morning when Flint brings up the possibility of Silver modeling again. Silver’s all ready for work and Flint’s drinking his coffee, watching him.

“Do you…want to…” Flint starts and then, “I mean….if it wouldn’t be too awkward that is.” He’s thought about this factor, but he still wants to give it a try. Obviously if it’s too awkward for Silver than that’s another matter altogether.

Silver doesn’t help him out in the slightest, just sits there, on the foot of the bed, waiting for him to finish.

“Would you like to model for my class again?” Flint finally says. “Obviously I’d pay you. It’d be business. Good models are hard to find and-”

At this point Silver leans over and silences him with a kiss. “Yes, I will model for your class.”

“Good. I mean.” Flint’s arms go naturally around Silver, situating him more comfortably between his legs.

“You’re going to have to do one thing for me.” Silver’s bore into his intently and Flint nods, licking his lips in anticipation of whatever it is Silver requires of him. He can keep their relationship quiet, he can be professional, he can refrain from speaking in an intimate matter. He can pretend they’re perfect strangers in public if that’s what Silver wants. His stomach gives a little dip of disappointment at the thought though, even if it might be easier altogether.

Silver turns his head slightly and Flint catches sight of the parade of marks down his neck.

“Ah.” He says weakly, wincing at the blunt display of his actions.

“I don’t care. I like them.” Silver says, laughing slightly. “I can cover them up, but if I don’t have time to do that, or I forget…”

“What?” Flint’s fingers slide up his back, holding him gently but firmly within his grasp.

“Please go along with whatever story I say.”

“What?” Flint frowns. “Why would anyone ask?” Why one earth would Silver need to make a story up?

Silver raises an eyebrow. “Trust me, if I show up with these, someone will ask.”

“Sometimes people respect other people’s privacy.” Flint murmurs leaning in to kiss his way along those marks.

“And I bet you anything that someone asks.” Silver tells him.

“Anything?” Flint presses the tip of his tongue against a particularly vivid mark, making Silver gasp.

“Anything you want, which of course means anything _I_ want, when I win.” Silver points out, grinning at him devilishly. It almost makes Flint hope he’s right just to see what Silver comes up with.

“It’s a bargain.” Flint whispers and sinks his teeth into him again, marking Silver afresh.

*  *  *

 

The first time Silver finally does end up modeling for his class after they’ve started seeing each other, is pure torment. There’s no other term for it. It starts off perfectly fine and by the end of the session Flint’s determined to strangle Silver with his bare hands.

Silver looks like he’s perfectly professional one moment, and the next he’s shifted just slightly enough that Flint gets a full eyeful of his crotch, or the delectable dimples above his butt, or the pert angle of a nipple. It’s a subtle campaign, all perfectly designed to drive Flint crazy.

Flint sees the students out and then closes the door very carefully after them. When he turns around Silver’s smirking, but he wipes it off quickly enough when he sees Flint’s expression.

“I think that went well.”

“What the fuck were you doing, playing around like that?” Flint half snarls. If this were anyone else, just an employee, he would be livid for the way they’d behaved, but since it’s Silver, he’s annoyed and turned on. The latter is more infuriating since he prides himself on being respectful of his model’s presence.

“Modeling for you.” Silver’s expression is entirely innocent. If Flint hadn’t looked up at one point to see him fucking winking at him, he’d almost believe he imagined the whole thing. But he didn’t, and he knows Silver did it on purpose.

He backs Silver up against one of the desks and Silver gazes up at him.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

“What’re you going to do?” Silver whispers.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” Flint tells him.

He looks around, and then decides right here is good enough.

“Turn around.”

“What’re…”

“Turn around.” Flint growls.

Silver does.

“Take your trousers down.”

Slowly Silver does, revealing his perfectly formed backside.

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” Flint remarks, staring at him. It doesn’t matter that he just spent an entire afternoon seeing Silver nude. This is entirely different.

“Mm, well, I didn’t want to lose another pair in your studio.”

“Place your hands on the desk.”

Silver obeys that too.

Flint moves up close behind him, palming Silver’s ass with both hands. Silver exhales, pressing back into Flint’s grasp. Flint stands there a moment, just caressing him savoring the feel of Silver’s skin. And then finally he steps back.

“Where are you going?”

“Eyes in front.” Flint tells him. He looks around the studio but has already decided he’s not going to find anything suitable for what he wants to do. Which leaves his hands.

He turns back to Silver, who’s waiting, eyes ahead, palms resting on the desk in front of him. Flint moves directly to one side, so Silver might be able to see him out of the corner of his eye. He touches Silver lightly for a second, and then brings his hand down swiftly on his ass.

Silver jerks forward, pressing hard against the desk.

“Next time you think about acting up in the studio.” Flint says pleasantly enough. “Don’t.” He follows this up with another blow of his hand, sending Silver’s hips forward again.

“It was just a little flirting.” Silver groans as Flint hits him again.

“You winked at me.” Flint says flatly. He’s pleased with the way Silver’s backside is turning pink.

“Never again.” Silver pants finally. By this time his ass is a rosy pink hue that would put a rose bed to shame.

Flint cups one of his cheeks, smirking as Silver hisses faintly at the touch. And then slowly, without warning, he goes to his knees, parting Silver’s cheeks with his hands.

“Nnnngh.” Silver’s knees nearly buckle as he practically falls forward, leaning fully into the desk as Flint sticks his tongue inside him. “Fuck.”

Flint swirls his tongue inside Silver’s ass, pressing deeper. The noises coming out of Silver’s mouth are a stream of profane and divine. Flint closes his eyes, focusing only on the feel of Silver pressed close to his face as Flint fucks him heatedly with his tongue.

“Flint.” Silver whimpers. “Flint.”

Flint pulls off. “What?”

“Please, I’m so close. please.”

Flint reaches a hand around to grasp Silver’s cock. It only takes another press of his tongue, and a stroke of his hand for Silver to tip over the edge.

 

*  *  *

 

Afterward Silver just stretches and leans against the desk, grinning at him.

“What?”

“You still owe me, remember?”

“Mm?”

 “I was right. Idelle asked.”

God, he was right. Idelle _had_ asked of course. Of course she had. You couldn’t put anything over that woman.

Silver had done an excellent job of covering up most of the marks, but there had been one on his inner thigh that he had obviously missed and it wasn’t visible until it was too late to do anything about it. It would have been more suspicious if he had gone and covered it up during a break, but Flint had definitely thought about making him do it.

“I see I was right.” Idelle had remarked during one of the breaks.

“Oh?” Silver glanced at her.

“He’s a biter, isn’t he.” She nodded at his thigh and winked.

Silver had just turned to Flint with a shrug of his shoulders and ‘I told you so!’ expression. Flint just ignored the both of them.

Now though he has to admit that Silver had been right. She had asked.

“All right.” He surrenders. “You win.”

“Mmm, such sweet words.” Silver lifts himself up on the table, wincing slightly as he does. “Come here then.”

Flint sets aside the pencils he was putting away and goes over to him, stepping naturally into the space between Silver’s legs. Silver places a hand on his chest, looking up at him. His hair is pulled back but there’s always loose tendrils escaping and Flint wants nothing more than to pull them free and run his fingers through their gloriousness. He loves Silver’s hair. He loves…

Flint blinks swiftly. It’s far too soon to even be thinking something like that. The last thing he wants to do is ruin it.

He gazes down at Silver, his hands on Silver’s hips, just stroking lightly along his sides. “What do you want then?”

Silver slings his hands around Flint’s neck. “What I want is for you to carry me upstairs, and from there, we can wing it.”

Flint’s answering smile is so quick upon his lips. Silver makes him smile. Isn’t that enough? He should stop overthinking this. It’s early. Nothing _has_ to change, not yet. They can go on like this, can’t they?

“Well?” Silver prompts when Flint’s been quiet a little too long.

“I think I can work with that.” He slides his hands under Silver’s ass, lifting him easily. Silver slides his legs around his hips, and leans in to kiss his neck as Flint carries him upstairs.

 

*  *  *

 

His collection of sketches of Silver grows. Some of them are simple, just bare lines of Silver drinking coffee, Silver with tousled curls sitting up in bed. Silver leaning against the desk, gazing at his phone, his hair falling over his face.

And then there’s the other collection, the ones Flint keeps returning to though he still doesn’t know why. It’s the series of sketches of Silver on a ship. Flint’s drawn him in a cabin late at night, by the ship’s railing, looking into the wind with a spyglass, standing on a beach, the sea and ship in the background. It’s getting to be a little bit of an obsession, almost as much as Silver himself, but he doesn’t want to stop, even though he knows there’s still something missing from the sketches.

From time to time he sets them aside, trying to figure out what they need, but he always goes back to them.

 

*  *  *

 

They get to know each other slowly, sharing little pieces of information. Silver likes foreign films and romantic comedies. Flint likes dramas and spy flicks. Silver likes classical and pop music, a conundrum Flint can’t wrap his head around. Flint for his part likes music from the sixties and seventies, with a fondness in particular for the Kinks and the Stones.

Sometimes they fall asleep watching movies, bodies wrapped up in each other. Sometimes one of them stays up reading while the other falls asleep and Flint knows of no truer intimacy than that.

He’s happy and he doesn’t want to question it beyond this present time.

 

*  *  *

 

“When are we going to do dinner?”

Flint frowns even though Max can’t see him over the phone, which is probably for the best overall. He’s not always the greatest at shielding his thoughts from Max. Either that or she’s just exceptionally good at reading him. It’s one of the reasons he occasionally misses having her working alongside him. Not that Idelle isn’t great, but it’s different.

He settles for asking a blank “Why?”

“That’s what friends do.” Max’s voice is completely sincere, which means she’s probably laughing at him on some level. They get drinks, they hang out late at night in her garden talking about art, they grab coffee and catch up. They’ve never really done dinner.

“So why now?” Why now that he and Silver are….whatever they are? Flint keeps shying away any actual term because he still doesn’t know what the fuck to call Silver. Boyfriend? Could he pull off boyfriend? Flint’s not sure he could.

“Because now after you go home Max and I won’t have to talk about how it good it would be if you were banging someone on the reg.”

Flint rolls his eyes at Anne’s chiming in. “Afternoon, Ann.”

“Instead we’ll talk about how good it is when you’re _actually_ banging someone on the reg.”

“I highly doubt you two bother discussing my love life.” God, why would they? Why would anyone spend a moment’s thought on such a subject? Flint shudders.

“Well, not for very long anyway.”

He can definitely see Anne’s smirk over the phone. It’s an impressive skill.

“Anyway,” Max sounds more amused than Flint would have thought. God, she’s gone soft. ”What do you say?”

There’s no way of getting out of this. It’s easiest to just surrender easily. Flint stifles his sigh. “Let me talk to Silver and I’ll get back to you.”

“You promise you’ll actually talk to him this time?”

Flint grinds his teeth. “Yes.”

“Good, see you.”

“See you.” He hangs up and sighs. Ann and Max and Silver and him in a room together. At least there will be alcohol.

 

He broaches the subject that evening. “Max wants to do a dinner party.”

Silver nods, not looking up from his notebook. “She mentioned it to me as well.”

There’s a pause and Flint tries to think of a good way to ask the next question, which was ‘do we have to do it?’

After a moment when he still hadn’t spoken, Silver finally looks up. “Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that.” Flint lies; it’s exactly that. He just doesn’t know why it’s necessary. He says as much now.

“Max seems to think it’s necessary because she seems to be under the impression one of us might be dead and the other is hiding the body in your flat.”

“Hmm.” Flint looks out the window. “Did she say which…”

 “It’s my body. She definitely thinks you might be hiding my body here.” Silver looks back at his notebook. “I’d have a better hiding place than your flat if I was trying to hide yours.”

“Is that right?"

Silver glances up again, smiling at him. “Cheer up, at least it won’t be black tie.”

For some reason this makes Flint’s frown deepen. Of course he doesn’t want to wear black tie but if the occasion called for it, he _would_. He _has_ in the past. Does Silver think he always just… he looks down at himself.

“That was not a slight against your shirts.” Silver tells him without looking up. “I quite like your artistic wardrobe.”

Flint just sighs. He knows he tends to wear the same thing, black or gray shirts in the studio, inevitably getting paint smudged, and sweaters when he’s done for the day, cozy in his own home. What’s wrong with that?

He goes to look out the window, trying to force himself to relax. It’s just dinner. Dinner with people whose company he actually enjoys. People who apparently also enjoy Silver’s presence. There’s no reason it can’t be a pleasant evening.

There’s a brush of fingertips along his sleeve as Silver slips his arms around his waist, leaning in close. “We’ll go, we’ll have some drinks, we’ll eat food. Anne will probably make at least one remark about us that Max will shush her for, and in the end we’ll come home again.” He squeezes Flint lightly with his arms. “Sound alright?”

“All right.” Flint’s comforted by the way Silver says we’ll come home.

Home. His home. Silver’s still coming over most nights. On the rare night that he doesn’t he texts and says he has a very early morning or a long day at the coffeeshop, which means he’s dead tired and can’t even summon up energy for conversation. Flint admires that he can just say that, and be honest about it. And he almost enjoys the nights when Silver’s gone because he can work on his sketches more freely. He draws around Silver, that’s not a problem, it’s one of the things he appreciates about Silver. But the sketchbook that’s become simply drawings of only Silver, well, those have become more private. He’s not sure why. Silver enjoyed seeing the drawings he had done that first day. Flint’s simply more reticent this time. He’s always been private when working on a special project and this time it feels even more so.

 

*  *  *

 

Of course, once the dinner’s actually happening Flint’s nerves return. It’s too soon anything couple-y. Why does anyone ever want to do something as a couple? He’s standing on the doorstep to Max and Anne’s flat with Silver who’s calm as a cucumber and carrying some sort of baking dish with a lid. They both came straight from work so this is the first time they’ve seen each other all day. This is probably for the best because otherwise Flint would have tried his best to keep Silver distracted and naked at home. That’s where he’s in his element. Fuck going to dinner.

He eyes the dish in Silver’s hands suspiciously. “What’s that anyway?” Were they supposed to bring things? He hadn’t asked. He has a bottle of red wine in his bag, but that’s just basic courtesy.

“Chocolate torte.” Silver says easily. “It’s Max’s favorite.”

Flint stares at him, a question forming on his lips, but the door is opened before he can make any sort of response. Max stands there, smiling at them both.

“Lovely to see you.” Max kisses Silver on the cheek, and Flint automatically bends down so she can reach his as well before she can ask and she beams in response.

“Well, I see he’s a good influence on you.”

“Pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve been called that.” Silver tells her, and Max laughs.

Flint rolls his eyes and takes off his coat, hanging it up on the wall hook by the door before he heads off to the kitchen where he finds Anne stirring something in a pot while scrolling through her phone.

“Good evening.” He holds out the wine.

“Thank fuck. Here.” She hands him the spoon. “You stir that and I’ll open the wine. Max said I had to wait till you were here.”

Flint accepts the duty of the spoon with good grace while she goes off to get a corkscrew. He stirs the dish and watches Max and Silver out of the corner of his eye through the doorway. Max takes the dish Silver offers her and set it to one side with an exclamation of delight.

“Here.” Anne hands him a full glass of red wine. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“How’s the sauce coming?” Max sticks her head in the kitchen. “Not burning, I hope?”

“Fine.” Anne says, while Flint nods in agreement.

“Good.” Max points at them. “Bread comes out of the oven in two minutes.” She pours wine for her and Silver, gives them each a warning look as she mutters “Remember the bread!” and goes out again.

“Is she like this all the time?” Flint whispers, taking a deep gulp of wine. It’s similar to how Max is in the studio and yet subtly different at the same time.

“If you showed up on time to parties, you’d know.”

 

*  *  *

 

He glances out to the front room again, studying how comfortable Max and Silver are together. They’re siting on the sofa, already deep in conversation with their wine. Silver’s dressed casually but looks good. He’s wearing a silky black button-down and dark blue jeans. His hair’s neatly pulled back. The way he tilts his head as he laughs makes Flint want to kiss him.

He looks up to see Anne watching him. “Are they always like this?”

“Yeah.” Anne shrugs. “They’ve been friends for years. Silver’s alright.”

“High praise coming from you.” Flint leans against the door, turning towards her.

Anne laughs. “I suppose. It’s true though. He can be a bit of a dick, obviously, but who among us can’t?”

Flint raises his glass in agreement. “True enough.”

He moves closer, watching Anne stir the sauce a moment before venturing another question. “So did you want to do dinner tonight?”

Anne wrinkles her nose. “Couples dates aren’t really my thing but it was important to Max. You know.”

Flint nods in agreement. He knows how it is when something’s important to Max.

There’s a polite cough and they both look up to see Silver in the doorway.

“I came for more wine.” Silver’s gaze slides over Flint, and then up again, as though he’s trying to reconcile what he’s seeing.

Flint resists the urge to look down at himself. He knows what he’s wearing; he thought it was all right! Frankly at this juncture he doesn’t want to know if it’s not.

Anne hands over the bottle and Silver tops off his glass and Max’s with another sideways look at Flint before he goes out again.

 

 *  *  *

 

About midway through dinner Flint starts to slowly relax. Silver and Max are more than capable of carrying the conversation with minimal input from Anne and him. And when the pressure is off, he finds he enjoys himself far more. Enough so that Flint starts to appreciate how much Silver is in his element in moments like this. He always seems to be in his element, whether he’s in the middle of a classroom or at a dinner party, or the bedroom. Is there anywhere he’s not comfortable?

“Like I said,” Anne dips a piece of bread in sauce and pops it in her mouth. “You two are good together.”

Silver just grins, but Flint’s had enough wine to ask the question he’s been curious about ever since he met Silver.

 “So why didn’t you introduce us before?” He glances at Max.

“Because I didn’t think the two of you would get on.” Max says frankly.

“What?” Flint makes a scoffing noise though he already knows what she means, inwardly shrinking from hearing it spoken aloud.

“It’s true. You have a tendency to be brusque and dismissive, and frankly a dick when you can’t be bothered to be civil, and you,” she points at Silver, “turn snarky and act like you don’t give a fuck and frankly I didn’t want to take the chance that you’d dislike each other and make my parties in the future more awkward.”

“Well.” Silver shrugs. “That’s fair.” He grins at Flint who just laughs and reaches for his wine.

“You don’t disagree.” Anne points her bread at Flint who shakes his head.

“No, I don’t.”

Silver gives him a quick look but doesn’t say anything.

“And now,” Max announces. “Time for dessert.” She smiles at Silver and goes into the kitchen to return with Silver’s torte and a bowl of fresh cream. She removes the lid, and drizzles the cream over it before serving them each a perfectly cut slice.

Flint takes a bite. “That’s incredible.” He had no idea Silver could cook on top of everything else.

“I told you.” Max looks smug.

“What, you never told me he could cook.” Flint turns to Silver. “For that matter _you_ never told me you could cook.”

Silver shrugs. “Only on special occasions.” He winks at Max who just laughs. Flint feels as though it’s a private joke between the two of them but for once he doesn’t feel left out, just happy that they’re both friends.

 

*  *  *

 

In the cab home they make out like teenagers and when they reach the flat, as soon as Flint’s got his coat off, Silver goes quiet again as he looks at him.

“What is it?” This time Flint does look down at himself. “What’s wrong?”

“Not a damn thing.” Silver sighs. He reaches out, running a hand over the soft creamy white wool of Flint’s sweater. “Do you have any idea of how handsome you look?”

Flint’s brow furrows. “Are you kidding me? _That’s_ what you were thinking every time you gave me a weird look tonight?”

“You look so fucking good.” Silver breathes. He presses his face to Flint’s chest, breathing him in. “You practically gave me a hard-on every time I looked at you.”

Flint slides his fingers along Silver’s face, cupping his cheeks. “You’re…” He doesn’t have words for Silver, so instead he kisses him slow and deep, loving the way Silver responds.

Silver gets his zipper down, drawing out Flint’s cock. “I need to fucking taste you right now.”

They could go to the bedroom, but what’s the point? They’re right here. Flint curls his fingers through Silver’s hair, holding him close as Silver goes down on him.

 

*  *  *

 

If anyone had asked, Flint would have said it was inevitable really that things started to go bad around that point. Relationships always ended, when you thought about it. Either people broke up or they died. That’s simply the way things go.

 

*  *  *

 

The man who appears in his studio the following week is like a harbinger. He just stands there, in his tastefully good coat, looking around the room with vague interest.

“Can I help you?” Flint asks. Just looking at the man gives him an unsettled feeling.

“I’m looking for one of your models, actually.” The man tells him. “John Silver.”

“He’s not here right now. I can give him a message for you if you like.”

The man considers this. “Yes, thank you. Tell him to call Ellis.” He turns to go.

“That’s it?” Flint asks, half expecting there to be something more.

“That’s it.” The man smiles politely enough. “Thanks again.”

Flint watches him go out the door, the unsettled feeling rippling through his stomach once more.

 

*  *  *

 

Flint debates about waiting till later to tell Silver about the man who showed up at the studio, but at the same time he wants to see what Silver says. So he sends off a quick text.

_A man stopped by the studio asking for you. He said for to you to call Ellis?_

It seems an excruciatingly long time before Silver responds but finally he texts back.

_Thanks._

That’s it. Flint blinks.

_Everything okay?_

_Yeah._ _😉_

Surely there’s more. Flint waits a little longer but his phone stays silent. Finally he can’t wait any longer and he sends off another quick text.

_Pizza tonight?_

_Actually, I’m not feeling up to it tonight. Tomorrow?_

_Sounds good._

Flint tells himself it’s fine, normal, everything’s okay and goes back to work.

It nags at him though, and by the end of the day he still feels unsettled.

Flint considers leaving it there, and just seeing Silver tomorrow, but something about him is still bugging him. So he grabs his coat and goes out. He stops at the corner store and gets a bag of the pastries Silver likes. His plan is very simple. He’ll just go over there, see how Silver’s doing, leave him some pastries, kiss him, and go home again.

He stops across the street from Silver’s flat, a place he’s never actually been to yet, at least to see the inside. He’s about to cross the street when the door opens and Silver comes out, going down the street.

Flint waits about half a sec, and then goes after Silver. He doesn’t exactly mean to follow him. He’s just….the feeling in his gut won’t leave him.

Silver goes down to the corner where there’s a cab waiting and ducks into it. Flint quickly hails another one and feels ridiculous as he tells the man to follow the cab ahead of them, but does it anyway.

Silver gets out at a little art gallery in Soho, the sort of pretentious place that Flint wouldn’t usually look twice at.

Now he gets out, pays his driver and goes to the window. There’s some sort of exhibit happening. Flint takes a deep breath and tries to tell himself it isn’t what it looks like. But there’s the man who stopped by his gallery, going around and mingling with the crowds. There are some paintings displayed on the walls but the majority of the art is sculpture, displayed around the room.

Flint pauses and looks back at the outside of the gallery. It just has a small plaque with an engraved name _Ellis Daniels._

Alright then. This is Ellis. Clearly a successful artist.

He remembers Silver’s words _. ‘I know what it’s like to date artists.’_ It’s probably easy for Silver to find people who want him to model for them. What if he just goes from artist to artist?

He should just go, Flint knows this, but instead he goes inside. The air is too warm, but he moves through the crowd, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. The art is whatever for the most part. Well-executed enough, but there’s a lack of feeling Flint can’t help noticing.

There’s a large sculpture in the middle of the room and Flint stops when he sees it.

It’s a statue he recognizes instantly. It’s Silver. Silver, nude, smiling, his face tilted downward as he reads the book in front of him. It’s such a perfect statue that Flint instantly hates it. No wonder Silver was with someone this good, this talented. He’s brought Silver wonderfully to life.

He turns blindly, needing to leave immediately.

Silver spots him then, and his eyes widen at the sight of Flint. Instantly Flint knows this was a bad idea. He turns and goes outside. He’s halfway down the street when he hears Silver behind him.

“James!”

Flint grinds to a halt. This is a mistake. He shouldn’t have come. He’s too angry, too frustrated, too hurt, too bitter.

He turns around, shoving his hands deep into his pockets so he doesn’t make a fool of himself by reaching for Silver. “What?” His voice is hard and brusque.

Silver tenses immediately. “What? You’re the one who just showed up here and now you ask me _what?_ ”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that not up for pizza meant ‘I’m going to see my ex’s exhibit’.”

Silver flinches at that but when he looks at Flint, his eyes are bright and angry. “Nobody asked you to come tonight! You’re the one who barged in here.”

“No, you’d clearly prefer I know nothing about this. About him.” Flint gestures back at the studio. “Why exactly is that?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about it.” Silver says, running his hands through his hair. “Look, can we just not do this.”

“Why did you come here tonight?” Flint blurts out. “Why did you go running after him the moment he tells you to call him?” Maybe that’s what hurts that much. The idea that someone else has such a hold on Silver all they have to do is call for him and Silver goes running for him.

A flash of anger burns in Silver’s eyes. “Fuck you.”

Flint just shrugs his shoulders. “Not tonight.”

Silver turns and stalks off back to the gallery. Flint’s heart clenches tight in his chest, panicked at what’s just happened. He should call after Silver. He should stop him from going, try to explain why he followed him but he can’t.

Instead he turns and walks in the opposite direction, as a fresh fall of snow starts to drift down over the brightly lit street.

 

*  *  *

 

Silver doesn’t come over that night, and he doesn’t text, and he doesn’t show up the next morning. Flint stays in bed for as long as he can, put off getting up. There’s no warmth beside him. There’s just the reminders of Silver lingering around the flat. The coffee mug left standing by the side of his bed, the underwear sticking out of his hamper. Silver’s socks at the foot of the bed, his paperback left on the couch.

Fuck him and all the reminders he left behind.

 

*  *  *

 

His phone vibrates when he’s finally out of bed and making tea. It’s Max. Flint thinks about not answering, but she’ll just keep calling.

“Hello?”

“What the _fuck_ did you say to him?”

Flint winces at the rage in Max’s voice. “Max, let me-”

“You have exactly one minute to tell me what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Flint protests. “At least, not really.” Silver’s the one who was getting back together with his ex.

“ _James_.” Her voice is at warning levels now.

“Alright,” Flint snarls. “I followed him to his ex’s gallery, and I saw that fucking statue _Ellis_ did of him and I don’t need to get into it with him right there, he could have just told me…” … _told me it was over, told me it was temporary, told me he was only taking a break before he goes back to a serious artist, not someone who just makes simple little sketches._

“You have no fucking clue.” Max hangs up and he’s left there wondering what the fuck just happened all over again.

 

*  *  *

 

Another week goes by and Flint ignores everything but work. He ignores Idelle’s questions about where Silver is, and he doesn’t answer Max’s texts. He blots it all out, focusing on his classes, and his own art. He puts away the portfolio of sketches of Silver. He was briefly tempted to tear them up, but in the end he can’t do it, so instead he just shoves in his desk drawer and tries not to think about it.

 

*  *  *

 

He stops for a drink at their regular pub one night, and isn’t too surprised when he sees Jack, though admittedly he’s a little grateful there’s no sign of Anne.

“Hello.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Oh hello.” He signals the bartender and waits until Flint’s got his drink before speaking. “I hear you and Silver got together after you ducked out of the new year’s party early.”

Flint winces. “Can we not talk about that?”

“What? Why not?” Jack looks surprised. “Thought he was the best shag of your life and all that?”

Flint takes a long sip of his whiskey.  “He…was.” It hurts to admit that. It hurts to admit a lot of things. Not least that he might have been an idiot about the whole thing. He never even gave Silver the chance to tell him he was leaving.

He takes another whiskey, and decides what the hell, might as well tell Jack the whole story.

Jack rests his jaw in his hand, sipping his own drink and nodding along with the tale. But by the time Flint gets to the part about the gallery, he’s shaking his head.

“He really had that statue on display?”

“Yes, why?” Flint finishes his whiskey and gestures for another.

“Just what kind of wanker displays a statue of their ex-boyfriend without their permission?”

“You don’t know he didn’t have Silver’s permission.” Flint mutters.

“You don’t know he did.” Jack points out.

Flint has to concede that’s true. He  doesn’t want to think about this. He doesn’t want to think about any of this.

“I don’t want to think about this.” he says bluntly.

“What do you want then?” Jack takes a sip of his whiskey, looking at him questioningly.

“I want…” Flint pauses. What he wants, if he’s honest, is to go home and find Silver waiting for him, curled up in bed, reading. He wants to get into bed beside him and pull the covers over the both of them and just sleep, there, together.

“…something I can’t get back.” He finishes quietly.

“How do you know that unless you’ve tried?” Jack squints up at him.

“See you later, Jack.”

“Good luck, James.”

 

*  *  *

 

The rest of the week passes and the next week starts, and still nothing. Flint gives up hoping there will be a text from Silver even if he’d dread what it could say.

It would have kept on like that if it hadn’t been Max’s birthday that week. Flint knows this, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it because if he acknowledges it then he’ll have to go, and if he goes, Max will corner him. And then there’s always the chance that Silver might be there.

That’s without even getting into the fact that it’s karaoke.

He gets a barrage of texts from Anne, one after the other, only growing more ominous as they go along.

_In case ur thinking about skipping tonight, think again._

_u better show up, u fucker_

_Answer me u asshole_

_FLINT_

He responds with _I’ll be there_ and leaves it at that.

 

*  *  *

 

Flint gets to the bar right at the time the invitation said. He’s got Max’s present wrapped neatly in gold tissue paper and black ribbon. He’s dressed in a good black shirt with gold-patterned flecks, that amazingly enough has no paint on it, and nice trousers instead of jeans for once. He’s making an effort and he doesn’t even know why.

Anne and Jack are there, along with Max, obviously. Idelle and Charlotte, all of Max’s modeling friends. There are other people, people Flint recognizes peripherally from Max’s parties over the years. Even Eleanor’s there, Max’s on-again, off-again ex. They exchange nods of ‘oh god, the things we do for Max.’

But there’s no Silver, and Flint can’t fight the disappointment welling up inside him when he realizes that.

He sits down on a stool next to Anne and puts Max’s present on the bar along with the stack of other packages.

“Glad you made it,” Anne says faux sweetly, and Flint stifles a snort.

“Thanks for having me.” He orders a whiskey and waits for the festivities to begin.

 

*  *  *

 

They’re several drinks and five songs in, Idelle finishing up  ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ when Flint looks up and sees Silver in the doorway. Silver hesitates and then comes over to the bar. He gives a quick hello to Max, his eyes avoiding Flint’s.

Flint grips his glass, finishing his drink, downing it quickly. He hasn’t let himself think about what he would do if Silver actually showed, and now he’s here.

Jack nudges him, jerking his head towards the stage. “Go on.”

“I’m not.” He pauses and then, what the hell, it looks like Silver’s leaving, already heading for the door. This is his one chance. “All right.”

“Yeaaaah,” Jack leans into the microphone. “And our next singer is none other than James Flint, with a very special number.”

Silver freezes, turning back around to face the stage.

Flint steps up there slowly. He feels like an idiot, but he can’t back out now and Silver’s standing there watching him. Silver’s still there.

Flint takes a deep breath and starts singing.

It doesn’t make any sense to a lot of the people there, clearly, but Flint’s not singing for them. His voice is low but gains slowly volume as the song picks up. Just a small song about gazing on a Waterloo sunset.

His eyes are on Silver’s the entire time, and this is definitely the dumbest thing Flint’s ever done, but he sings it determinedly to the end. Either Silver will get it or he won’t. That’s all Flint can hope for. He closes his eyes and sings the last of it.

There’s a smattering of applause and fortunately Jack comes up to take the mic from him.

“Interesting choice.” Jack claps him on the back. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Flint looks around.

Silver standing by the edge of the stage. He looks like he’s waiting and Flint’s the only one there, so he goes over to him.

 

*  *  * 

 

They duck down the hall near the bathroom. The air is smoky around them. The first few notes of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ starts and Jack croons the opening lines. Silver’s mouth twitches in spite of himself.

“You came.” Flint says quietly.

Silver shrugs. “Max made me.” He scratches the back of his neck self-consciously. “Look, maybe this isn’t the best place.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.” Flint blurts out. “The first night, and this time. I’m sorry I keep fucking this up.”

Silver looks down, biting his lip. “Maybe I was partly relieved when you didn’t call after that first night.” He sighs. “I never wanted to date another artist, to be honest. It’s so fucking hard…”

“What?” Flint waits.

“Believing anything they say.” Silver finally looks up at him. “About me.”

Flint stares at him. “I never lied to you.”

Silver shrugs. “You’d say that, wouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t.” Flint insists. This _matters_. Whatever else Silver thinks about them, about Flint, he needs to know Flint really meant everything he told Silver.

And then he remembers. He’s never told Silver that he cared about him. That he felt, well, anything. Everything. Flint certainly never used the word love, except in his own head. It had been too…sentimental, too uncertain, too bold a move. They’d barely been seeing each other for less than two months. It was too soon, too much.

“I…” Flint swallows. Is this the moment? Silver’s looking at him like he doesn’t want to hear another word out of Flint’s mouth. Is this really the right moment to confess his feelings?

“You said you and Ellis didn’t date.” He says finally, at a loss. He remembered that part of what Silver said later.   _‘I know what it’s like to be with an artist. It wasn’t the greatest of experiences to be honest.’_

Silver shrugged. “It’s not really dating when the other person won’t admit in public that you’re in a relationship. When he pretends that you’re just his model but expects you to wait around at a party for him, whenever he’s done flirting and fucking with everyone else.”

There’s an edge to his voice and Flint wants to soothe it with his own comfort, to smooth it down until Silver’s bitterness isn’t so ragged and painful.

But he can’t. All he can do is listen.

He stands there, waiting, showing Silver that he’s here for him. If Silver wants him to be. When Silver doesn’t speak Flint finally has to.

“That sounds like it was hard.” It’s an understatement. What he wants to say is, _your boyfriend was a dick to treat you like that._

Silver shrugs. “It was what it was. I learned a lot from him.” He pauses.

“Tell me.” Flint murmurs, and then, “If you want to.”

Silver hesitates again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Flint says steadily. He will listen to anything and everything Silver will give him.

“I need another drink then.” Silver nods at the bar.

“Alright.” They brush past the others, heading for a booth. Flint catches Max’s eye, and mouths, “It’s okay,’ at her. He doesn’t know if that’s true, but he desperately wants it to be.

They snag a corner booth and Silver orders a glass of wine, Flint a whiskey. Flint’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out. Silver raises an eyebrow and Flint holds it out for him to read.

_You both better not leave without saying goodbye._

Silver chuckles. “Tell her okay. We won’t.”

They’re back to _we_. Flint can live with this.

Flint texts Max back and sets his phone down. The waiter brings their drinks and finally they’re alone. Well, as alone as they can be in a crowded bar where a friend of theirs is belting out Queen a few feet away.

Silver takes a sip of wine, and then asks again, “Sure you want to hear this?”

“I asked didn’t I?”

He nods, looking away from Flint. “I only lost my leg three years ago. It was a bad accident. I was in rehab for nearly a whole year. And afterwards, I sort of spiraled and lost touch with everyone.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I took a break from modeling obviously. Wasn’t sure if I’d ever go back.”

“Why did you?”

“It was Max. She pointed out I’d only lost my leg, not my life after all.”

Flint grimaces. “That sounds like Max.”

“She was right of course. I wasn’t sure at first. Whether I wanted to still model, to have people looking at me like I was some sort of freak.” The bitterness in his voice has a such personal note.

“Why would you think that?” How could anyone think that?

Silver looks at his glass. “I never told you about Ellis.” He pauses, “…or I did, sort of. He’s the artist I mentioned.”

“Oh.” The jealousy flares up again. “I figured.”

Silver swallows tightly, “He’s a sculptor. He was charming and eloquent and fucking talented, and he wanted to paint me and sculpt me. He used to call me his perfect muse. We were together for nearly two years.” He stares down at his wine. “And then, after the accident, I wasn’t perfect any more and it was over.”

“What?” Flint stares at him, surprised. That wasn’t remotely what he had expected to hear.

“He broke off our relationship when I was still in the hospital. Said I didn’t inspire him anymore.” Silver laughs a little. “In a way, that helped me get back to modeling, in the end. I wanted to prove him wrong. And I did. As it so happens, plenty of people still want to see me naked.”

Flint stares at him incredulously. “Of course they do.” He stops immediately. ”Sorry, that’s not helpful, I know.”

Silver shakes his head. “It’s all right.”

“It’s true, though.” Flint persists. “You have to know how beautiful you are.”

Silver’s eyes widen a fraction, like he can’t really believe what Flint is saying to him.

It’s not enough. Flint searches for the words that will explain everything in his heart. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but looking at Silver he knows he wants to try. He doesn’t know if Silver will believe him.

“Come home with me?” he asks at last. Either this will work or it won’t.

Silver hesitates and then, “All right.”

They go over to say their goodbyes. Anne uncharacteristically hugs Flint, and then he realizes it’s only so she can whisper, “If you fucking hurt him more, I’ll cut your balls off.”

Flint pulls back, eyeing her. “I promise that’s that not my intention.”

“Good.” Anne gives a sharp nod before she turns to Silver.

“What was that?” Max asks.

“Just wishing me good luck.” Flint tells her. This time it’s his choice to hug Max, who looks a little surprised. “Thank you for making me come tonight.”

“You’re very welcome.” She kisses his cheek, and hugs him again. “Good luck.”

 

*  *  *

 

This time there’s no flirting in the taxi, no touching. Silver seems lost in thought on his side of the seat. Flint realizes he’s drumming his fingers on the side of the door and forces himself to stop.

The taxi’s radio is playing What Lovers Do and Flint grimaces faintly to himself before he notices Silver’s singing along under his breath.

 

*  *  *

 

Finally they reach the flat and goes upstairs. Silver looks around like he’s not sure of how familiar he should be with the space.

“Can I get you something? Another drink?”

“Something hot would be good.” Silver rubs at his arms.

Flint refrains from pointing out again that his coat wasn’t warm enough. Instead he nods and goes to make some coffee. Silver follows him to the kitchen, watching him.

“Tea would have been fine.”

“You like coffee.” Flint glances up and catches a quick smile on Silver’s lips.

He turns the coffeepot on and now there’s nothing to do but wait.

Silver folds his arms across his chest, leaning in the doorway, just looking at him. “That song you picked.”

To his immense chagrin, Flint blushes. “What about it?”

“You sang that for me.”

Flint nods.

“Why?” 

“Christ,” Flint murmurs, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He can’t believe Silver’s actually going to make him say it. Silver’s still waiting however, so he does. “Because when I look at you, I am in paradise.”

Clearly Silver doesn’t have an answer to that because he remains silent.

“Can I show you something?” Flint says at last.

He goes over to his desk and takes out the book of sketches. “I figured out what was missing.” He sets it on the table in front of Silver. “Go ahead. Take a look.”

Silver looks through them one by one. Flint’s added a second figure to the drawings. A tall, red-headed captain, with a sneer of a smile, and a snarl for the rest of the invisible crew. But there in the stillness of the cabin, gazing down at Silver, or crouching beside him on the window-seat, or standing side by side at the railing gazing at the distant horizon, he seems at peace in that space. They’re a matched pair, these two figures on the distant page.  

Silver looks up at him, uncertainty in his eyes.

“I don’t want to rescue you.” Flint’s words are quiet, but strong. He knows this much; “I know you can look after yourself. But I want to be there, with you. I want you to be with me. Partners.” His thumb brushes the top drawing, since he can’t let himself touch Silver since Silver hasn’t moved or spoken at all.

“Partners.” Silver echoes faintly.

“I want to date you.” Flint says honestly. “I want to date you and come home to you and, yes, I want to paint you, I can’t help that, but I also want to go for walks with you and shower with you and wake up beside you and fuck you, and tell you-“ he breaks off there because _fuck_ , the words still get caught in his throat, and now Silver’s just staring at him.

“Tell me what?”

Flint swallows tightly. It’s now or never, he knows this. He might never get another chance. But what if he says it and Silver just shrugs it off. People must tell him they love him all the time. It means nothing coming from Flint.

He squashes down all the doubts, ignores the voice inside his head. It means something because he wants to say it. “Tell you that I love you.”

Silver’s eyes widen. A look of faint shock passes over his face and then it’s gone, and he’s shaking his head, slightly bemused. “You don’t have to say that. Trust me, it’s not necessary.”

“I do trust you.” Flint tells him stubbornly, “I trust you to believe me that It’s absolutely necessary.”

Silver gazes at him and then reaches up, kissing Flint fiercely.

There’s a hunger in his movements, in his hands, his lips on Flint’s. There’s an urgency in his motions that speaks to Flint.

“I need you.” Silver breathes. “I need you inside me.”

 

*  *  *

 

It’s a slower pattern of music this time. They’re both hesitant at the beginning, but the closer they draw together, the more Flint touches Silver, the more certain he is of how _right_ this, how the two of them are meant to be together like this, now and always. There’s no explanation for the certainty inside him, especially after all the doubts and mistakes and jealousy, he just knows.

He curls his fingers through Silver’s hair, tasting him again and again, never tiring of Silver’s lips.

Finally Silver exhales shakily.

“Enough?” Flint whispers.

“Not nearly.” Silver pushes him backwards to the bed.

Flint sinks down on the bed, and Silver crawls onto his lap, seeking his mouth once more. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain sooner. I just couldn’t bear it if you’d….”

“What?” Flint leans back so he can see Silver’s face.

“Oh, it’s stupid.” Silver sighs. “When Ellis wanted me to call him. It was about the exhibition.”

Flint nods slowly, waiting to see where this is going.

“He told me he was going to display the statue.” Silver makes a face. “Which, whatever, I knew he was going to do that. I just wasn’t sure why he wanted me to go, after everything.”

“And you went.” Flint says softly.

“Yeah.” Silver nods. “I should have…told you about it, but I wanted to see what he wanted first, and frankly, I didn’t want the two of you in the same room.”

“Oh.”

Silver grabs Flint’s face, holding him still. “Because if you spent more than two seconds with him, you might think I have absolute shit taste in people and decide you didn’t want to be with me anymore. That’s why.”

“Oh,” Flint says, this time in an entirely different tone of voice. “So what did he want?”

“He wanted to know if I would model for him again.”

“What did you decide?” Flint says when the silence has stretched out too long and he doesn’t know what else to say.

Silver’s eyes crinkle in surprise, and he looks at Flint with such affection for a moment Flint forgets what he even said.

“I said, fuck no.” Silver traces his fingers along Flint’s face, leaning in to rest his forehead against Flint’s. “What do you think?”

Flint gives a little laugh, burying his face in the curve of Silver’s neck as he hugs him close.

 

*  *  *

 

They slip backward on the bed, slowly peeling clothes off and dropping them to the floor.

This time as they move together, Flint’s aware of everything that brought them together, and everything that could have kept them apart. Every last thing here is precious and he resolves to treasure them more in the future, if he’s lucky enough to have a chance at a future with Silver.

The realization that he wants that more than anything is terrifying, but Flint can’t help it. He wants it in spite of being afraid it won’t last, that the hurt will be too much in the end. He wants this; he wants Silver and the risk of it, the chance of happiness, is worth the risk.

 

*  *  *

 

The night is dying down. Flint has no idea what time it is, but it doesn’t matter. The bed is warm and Silver’s here with him.

Silver looks across the blankets at him, his chin resting on his forearms as he gazes at Flint.

“What is it?” Flint asks.

“I told you once that I liked how you see me.” He pauses, gazing at Flint, his eyes open and blue. “And in those drawings of yours, with the two of us…I love them. I’m not an object in your drawings. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

He leans in and kisses Flint’s chest. “Do you have any idea…” his words are muffled by his mouth pressed warmly against Flint’s skin. But Flint needs to hear this, needs to know what Silver just said.

He leans down and cups the back of Silver’s neck, fingers teasing at Silver’s curls. “Tell me.”

Silver raises his head, looking up at him again. “I said…do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Flint swallows, his fingers stroking Silver’s neck. “If it’s anywhere as much as I love you, I’d say we’re both fucked.”

Silver stares at him, and then just starts giggling helplessly. He leans into Flint’s chest, his laughter warming Flint’s skin.

Flint wraps his arms around him, pressing a kiss into Silver’s hair. If he gets even a whole year of moments like this, he’ll be the luckiest man alive. Somehow though, he likes to believe this year’s love will last a lot longer than that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song Flint sings to Silver in the kareoke bar is 'Waterloo Sunset' by the Kinks. I admit that the version I was thinking of for Flint was the cover version Ethan Hawke sings in Juliet Naked. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRD8esgSFZs


End file.
